


Mutually Assured Destruction

by Megg33k



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crack, M/M, Porn, what the hell is wrong with me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megg33k/pseuds/Megg33k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunter meets the hunted, and self-loathing sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutually Assured Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'm genuinely sorry.

Two hulking masses of black metallic muscle purred side by side at a stoplight. The ’67 Impala growled as it was revved, and the ’10 Camaro answered in kind. The hunter and the hunted.  A wolf bared his teeth, more grin than snarl, and a very wayward son bit his lip before speeding off after his mark. That’s how it all began… and also how it ended.

***

Dean would tell you he followed Derek back to that burnt out shell of a house with the intent to kill him, and Derek would call him a liar right to his face. Maybe Dean’s past with Benny made him soft. Or maybe Derek’s smile just made him hard. Maybe it was both.

Explanations didn’t matter. Dean’s life suddenly revolved around the sofa beneath him and the wolf above, breathing him in and nipping at his bared throat. The beginnings of claws gently pierced freckled flesh, and the hunter whimpered into the mouth of his prey.

Derek stopped, pulled back. “You okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I just… don’t do this much.”

“Get laid?”

Dean’s incredulity was palpable, or he certainly hoped it was. “You’re not really… my type.”

“Because I’m a guy or a wolf?”

“Let’s just say I have a reserved seat at the supe version of AA.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

“I guess you could say that. So… why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t.” Derek smirked. “But I shouldn’t trust you either. The last time I screwed a hunter, she killed my family.”

“Yeah? The last time I screwed a supe, I had to cut off his head to save my brother.”

“That’s weird. I sound like _exactly_ your type.”

“Am I gonna have to kill you to shut you up?”

Derek arched a brow. “If you think you can, sure.”

“Don’t tempt me. Your body would stay warm for a solid… eh… 20 minutes, and I only need 10 of ‘em.”

“You’re a sick fuck, Winchester.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.” Dean shifted and rolled Derek off the sofa and onto his back. “Now shut it, wolfie.” He stripped off his own jacket and t-shirt before leaning in until his and Derek’s lips were infinitesimally close. The Alpha’s gaze begged to reel him in further, but he hesitated. “How do I know you aren’t gonna—” He searched Derek’s face for… something. “—wolf out on me or whatever?” He spoke more in breath and words, yet he still managed to sound flippant. It was a skill.

Derek snaked a hand around Dean’s torso and lifted the gun from his waistband. “Because I’m going to assume you were smart enough to load this with the right kind of bullets, and you’re not going to tell me if I’m wrong.”

Dean eyed the weapon as Derek laid it beside them, easily within reach. “And, uh, how do you know I won’t kill you just because I can?”

“I don’t.” Derek rolled them over again, regaining his position of dominance, and ground hard between Dean’s thighs. “You’re assuming I’d care if you did.”

In a moment of absolute narcissism, Dean saw himself in Derek. He gave a terse nod of permission, and only moments (and a few layers of clothing) later, he saw… or, rather, _felt_ Derek in himself. And it wasn’t gentle or loving, kind or generous. It was fierce and angry, raw and painful. Because, when you hate yourself to the Nth degree, the pain is more important than the pleasure. Even if the pleasure comes along with it… hard, and with a muffled scream.

So, on the filthy floor of a burnt out house, with nothing left to lose, Dean Winchester let himself go. He let a monster control and possess him. He let himself be owned in a futile attempt to forget about the handprint on his shoulder, as well as the hand that left it.

 _You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I_ _admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way._

When everything you love goes up in flames, you find someone just like yourself. You give up and give in. But, mostly … you pray for mutually assured destruction and hope an angel might just hear your call.

***

Two hulking masses of black metallic muscle once again purred side by side, this time on a dirt road. The ’67 Impala growled as it was revved, and the ’10 Camaro still answered in kind. The hunter and the hunted.  The wolf bared his teeth one last time, more sentiment than solicitation, and that very wayward son still bit his lip before speeding off in the _opposite_ direction.

**Author's Note:**

> At least no one seems to read Halechester? Feel free to comment if you do.


End file.
